Bench Trial

It appears to be a law that you cannot have a deep sympathy with both man and nature. - Thoreau

Like a modern-day Spanish Inquisition.

Taking up a shaky position.

Prideful and parched, I parade myself down to the water's edge.

My tears crying the inlet deeper and wider.

I sit on a weathered, wooden bench beneath the gazebo and plead my case to an unswayable keeper.

Choosing a different seat each time.

Hoping for a different outcome.

Sworn in by passing clouds.

The manic masts of moored boats in the harbor bobbing up and down as impassioned witnesses.

The sun, my judge, bringing everything to light.

The birds of the air my jury.

Time my executioner.

I hammer away at life and darkness, my twin accusers.

Shackled by a world gone awry.

When?

How?

Why?

Throwing myself on the mercy of the court.

Creation's gavel smacks an undeniable, unequivocal, unanimous truth.

Sentencing me to what is, what will be and what was.

Deep in my soul I receive fate's almighty answer.

"Because" ...

Author's Note

“Surely joy is the condition of life.” - Thoreau